


With The Punches

by lazaefair



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-08
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-05 01:45:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/400560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/4305.html?thread=2514641#t2514641">avengers kinkmeme.</a></p><p>Prompt: "Bruce is so mild and unassuming, that the rest of the team can't help falling for his quiet charm. Bruce isn't exactly sure how he keeps falling into bed with these handsome, muscle-y people."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was on the morning when he woke up sandwiched between Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton (Natasha snored, Clint didn't) in a giant bed in a suite in Avengers Tower in Manhattan that Bruce Banner (Doctor, Hulk, Esq.) finally admitted that maybe - maybe - something might have been going on. 

Okay, so maybe his mouth and dick ached pleasantly and his legs were fantastically limp and even the other guy was - relatively - quiet given the total lack of adrenaline left after a night spent with two handsome, well-muscled people who'd worked him over torturously slowly. So maybe whatever was going on wasn't bad, exactly. 

It was still weird.

Clint and Natasha woke up at the same time and went off on some other SHIELD mission - Clint clapped him on the back, Natasha kissed his cheek - and he found himself nursing coffee in the 44th-floor kitchen an hour later, getting more weirded out by the second.

"You're all plotting to keep me mellow," he said to Pepper Potts. Even being weirded out, he couldn't really inject that much accusation into the statement. She made really good coffee. "With sex."

"Well, post-coital endorphins are known for their calming effects," Pepper said mildly. She didn't even look up from her e-mail, where she was probably also gently scolding some Fortune 500 CEO somewhere and making him like it. 

"But considering the serious risks involved in getting me to a post-coital state in the first place--"

"Also, all of us really like you. Don't question it," Pepper said, leaving the kitchen with a kiss on the forehead for Bruce and a peck on the lips for Tony, who was passing her on the way in. She tossed over her shoulder an unsettling, "Behave, Tony. He's figured it out."

Tony smirked and opened his mouth.

"You're constructing a Twilight Zone around me, aren't you," Bruce barreled in before Stark could say whatever smart-ass thing he was cooking up. "You're all taking on the pity case and minimizing his liabilities while you're at it. Keep me happy and mellow, make me feel," his throat closed, "feel wanted, and I'm less of a risk to the rest of the team--"

"Now you're reaching," Tony said, breaking Bruce's train of thought. "I know you're angry all the time, but does it always have to come with the criminally low self-esteem? I'm the only one here allowed one of those, okay."

Bruce stared at Tony. It wasn't that long ago that he'd seen Pepper naked, and Tony naked next to her, and the memory in conjunction with last night made it really difficult not to picture Tony naked again. The other guy grumbled.

"Pepper likes you. Clint and Natasha - obviously - like you. Cap likes you. I like you. Thor likes you. Even frigging Nick Fury likes you, don't tell him I told you that."

"So I'm team mascot."

"Are you complaining about the benefits?" Tony rolled his eyes. "JARVIS, we got any of that Thai takeout left over?"

"Miss Potts directed me to warm it up before she left. It's currently in the microwave, sir."

"You don't understand. None of you understand what I could really do if--"

"God, I'm a lucky man," Tony said happily, going to retrieve the pad thai from the microwave. "Listen, Banner, we all like you and some of us think your mild-mannered-scientist-on-the-constant-edge-of-chaos thing is ridiculously hot, on top of liking you. Better accept it, we're just going to keep seducing you anyway."

Exit Tony Stark stage right, which left Bruce poleaxed in the kitchen while Steve fucking Rogers walked in.

Steve was sweaty and in workout clothes. Tony smacked him on the ass on his way out.

"Um," Bruce said.

"He's right, you know," Captain America said, and winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set a few days after Chapter 1. 
> 
> Conveniently incorporates [another kinkmeme prompt!](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/4305.html?thread=3012049#t3012049)  
> Prompt: "Tony gets _very_ turned on whenever Bruce wears glasses."

"Jesus, you need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?" Bruce took his glasses off again to look quizzically across the lab at Tony.

Tony groaned. _"That."_

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Let me know when you start making sense again." He put his glasses back on and tried to pick up where he left off in _ACS Biochemistry._

That is, until Tony tugged the journal away and slung himself into Bruce's lap.

"What," Bruce said, "no miniature cattle prod this time?"

"I know you can handle a slow build," Tony said, muffled by the skin of Bruce's neck, where he was laying open-mouthed kisses. "Let's see what you do with," quick drag of teeth against Bruce's pulse point, "something a little faster."

Then he disappeared from Bruce's lap, dropped to his knees, unzipped Bruce's pants, and licked Bruce to hardness in under a minute, give or take a few gobsmacked seconds.

"Fuck." Bruce ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Warn a guy, will you?"

"Have I mentioned," Tony mumbled from the underside of his cock, "how hot it is when you go commando-- no, wait, keep your glasses on."

The quick puffs of his breath on Bruce's skin were pretty distracting. "What?" 

In lieu of an answer, Tony swallowed him down and Bruce's hands fell away to clench hard against the sides of the chair. Tony had him in the back of his throat already, squeezing him mercilessly, and Bruce had to go away to concentrate on breathing for a while - _in_ three seconds, _out_ three seconds, _in_ three seconds, _out_ three seconds, _in_ \--

A groan tore through his careful breathing pattern when Tony finally pulled back, replacing mouth with hand, jerking him off with efficient rhythm. "Let go, big guy. Come on. You can handle it."

Bruce hauled his head back up to look at Tony with some effort. The glasses threw Tony's face into sharp detail - sheen of sweat on his face, saliva slicking his lower lip and chin. Naked hunger that appeared in his eyes when Bruce looked at him.

"You're good at this," Bruce choked out.

Tony's mouth went wryly crooked. "You're still talking, so not good enough," he said and bent down to do something obscene with his tongue in Bruce's slit. 

_"Fuck--"_ and then Bruce's eyes rolled back at the brutal pace Tony dove into, heat and wet and suction and blood pounding in his ears and lightning up his spine and unbearable tension winding tight in his belly, holy Christ, Tony was really pushing the envelope here.

The other guy roared in the distance.

And there it was, the edge of anger seeping through the storm. Tony _knew_ what he could do to Bruce, what Bruce could do when he lost control, but Tony kept pushing anyway - just for curiosity's sake, just another experiment. He glanced down at the sound of Tony's moan. The other man now looked totally wrecked, probably a lot like how Bruce looked, probably because Bruce had started thrusting into his mouth. 

His heart rate was still going crazy, but…he could do this. Anger sharpened the pleasure, made it sweeter, and he used it to control his thrusts, to time them just right to make Tony's eyes roll back in his head. Bruce's nerves were sparking wildly now, tension coiling low in his gut and it wasn't going to be long, just--one--more--

*  
*

Bruce Banner (Doctor, Hulk, Esq.) slumped over, more than a little dazed. He looked down at the inordinately pleased man between his knees. "So…" He stopped, coughed, tried again. "So the takeaway here is that you have a glasses fetish."

The corner of Tony's mouth quirked up. "You know it's not _just_ the glasses, genius."

Bruce scrubbed a distracted hand through his hair. The other guy stayed quiet. "I guess I should be glad Pepper made you take it slow last week."

"Pepper's good at knowing how not to make someone run screaming for the hills."

"Then what do you call--" The lab door whooshed open. Their heads snapped around. 

"…Hey, Stark?" 

_Oh no._ Tony looked Bruce straight in the eye. "Down here, Clint," he said, smirking and not moving from his knees while Bruce scrabbled to get his pants back up.

"Hey Banner, um…wow. Nice." And that was _not_ an identical smirk appearing on Clint's face, please god. The archer leaned a casual hip on their table. "Got any left for the rest of the class?"

"Sorry," Tony said over the sound of Bruce sighing. "We're fresh out. Come back in ten minutes, we'll see what we can do for you."

"Whatever else you think gamma radiation does," Bruce said, piqued, "it does not give you a refractory period of ten minutes."

Unfortunately, Tony and Clint's expressions did not change. "Wanna bet?"

Bruce looked at them both, incredulous. Then he remembered that Tony also hadn't gotten to come yet. 

"…I'm not going to get anything done today, am I?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PREQUEL TIME!
> 
> This is set shortly before the first chapter. Tony/Bruce/Pepper has already happened. Bruce/Clint/Natasha hasn't.

"Okay." Bruce sighed. "Tony put something in the water, didn't he. I should really run tests."

"Natasha likes you," Clint said, rather apropos of nothing, in Bruce's opinion. He also did not remove his hands from Bruce's face. Or his body from pressing Bruce down on the motel bed, for that matter.

"That's…good to know, but it doesn't do much to explain what just--"

"Do you know why she likes you?" Clint shifted his hips and his thigh did interesting things to Bruce's groin while Bruce squinted uncertainly at him. "Do you have any idea how rare it is for her to like someone?"

Bruce's mouth twisted. "I think I have some idea. And you're mistaken, she doesn't like me. I came close to _killing_ her."

"Tasha gets death threats with her breakfast eggs," Clint dismissed. "Anyway, that's irrelevant. The point is--"

"Well, sure, irrelevant to this, I guess, but probably not irrelevant to the--"

"The point is," Clint repeated, "she likes you because you're safe."

"--conversational tangent you just started. Wait, what?" Bruce stopped struggling and stared. "And I thought you couldn't make even less sense."

"You're only the second person who's ever apologized for trying to kill her."

Bruce stared some more at Clint. Clint appeared to be deadly serious.

"It's…probably way out of my security clearance and probably not healthy for me to know, but who was the first person?"

Clint smiled, which didn't really help. "Me."

*  
 _twenty-four hours previous_

Bruce sighed and looked out the Helicarrier windows. The clouds were exceptionally fluffy clouds.

"Nooooo, you can't take my top researcher away from me," Tony whined, already entering into what Pepper called his _taking my toys and going home_ phase.

"SHIELD found him first, Stark," Nick Fury said, with a look that might have fried eggs and did send junior agents scurrying.

"Yeah, but I brought him back and kept him here," Tony said, entering what Pepper called his _throw a tantrum if nothing else works_ phase.

"Um, can we not play finders keepers with me? I think I should point out that I'm actually present," Bruce pointed out to no one listening.

"I don't give a flying rabid monkey how deep you've got him in the clutches of your personal life, Stark," Nick Fury managed to invest the phrase 'personal life' with several subterranean depths of disdain and overrode Tony's squawked _What's that supposed to mean?_ with brutal efficiency. "He's still our leading expert in gamma radiation and biophysics. The nature of the situation demands that we send our best available analysts to monitor the situation. Yes, monitoring, Tony--"

"I don't. Friggin'. Care. After everything you put us - put him through? Listen, there aren't enough variations on the phrase _no way, José_ in the history of language for you--"

"--I'm telling you the Hulk is unnecessary at this time--"

"--so I'm just going to say no way, José and you can put it--"

"--um. I'm still in the room, guys--"

"I'll escort him," Hawkeye said, unfazed by Tony's glare. "When do we leave?"

*  
 _sixteen hours previous_

"You do escort missions often, agent?" Bruce asked while another program peacefully compiled on the tiny laptop. Hawkeye was the least known Avenger to him and he was curious.

"Sometimes." Barton shifted, his boots scraping on the concrete warehouse floor. "I have the best eyes in SHIELD. And silent ammunition comes in useful."

"I see." Bruce turned to get a better look at the other man. At the bow dangling loosely from his hand, at the double quiver of enhanced arrows. 

Hawkeye looked back at him, followed the direction of his gaze. "Yeah. I've got a couple special arrows in here. More special than usual," he amended at Bruce's skeptical expression. "Something SHIELD's been working on for the last few months."

Since the Avengers Initiative had been officially formed, in other words. Since it became obvious that Bruce was sticking around. "You really think a couple tricked-out arrows could take down the Hulk?"

"Long enough to get him somewhere safe. They're hoping."

"Well." Bruce punched a few keys. "Don't tell me how they work, then."

Barton tilted his head, like his namesake. "You'd sabotage yourself like that? Is the Hulk smart enough to do that?"

Bruce could already see the report to SHIELD forming in Barton's head. Of course they'd turn a simple unrelated mission into an opportunity to pump him for information. SHIELD was great at multitasking. _"The other guy_ is primarily composed of anger, but yes, my brain is still in there." It wasn't something he liked to acknowledge. Harlem came to mind. "There have been -- moments."

The agent opened his mouth, but Bruce decided it was time to turn it around. "May I ask you a question?"

"I can't promise an answer," Barton said, but he wasn't frowning.

"Right." Bruce punched another key. "What was it like?"

"I had clarity of purpose," Barton said immediately. "The tesseract showed me exactly where I was going. Nothing mattered except my next target." He said it like he'd rehearsed it quite a bit, which was probably true. SHIELD had put him through its gauntlet of psychologists before they let him out again.

Clarity of purpose, huh? Bruce thought Nick Fury was probably plenty capable of doling out missions just bursting with clarity, but then, even he didn't have Loki's magic on his side. Bruce watched the on-screen meters fluctuate. The numbers were still within acceptable parameters, so he looked at Barton. "Do you miss it?"

Barton didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Would you go back if you could?"

Barton didn't drop his gaze, but his jaw ticked and he folded his arms.

Something in the detection array chirped softly. Bruce looked away first. He sighed and took his glasses off. "So, um. Anyway. This _is_ just a monitoring mission, right?"

"Yeah." Barton gave him a sideways smile. "That's all we gotta do. Keep our heads down and monitor whatever their tech's giving off, simple."

"Simple. Right."

*  
 _five hours previous_

"Does everything you do eventually turn into a shootout?" Bruce said conversationally. "I'm asking only for information."

"You feeling stressed, doctor?" Barton asked, peaking over a barrier and putting an arrow through another distracted goon. He hadn't been exaggerating - arrows made very silent ammunition.

"How could I, with the excellent agents of SHIELD to protect me?" Bruce's fingers flew across several keyboards in practiced routine. He was used to shutting down and leaving in a hurry.

The agent of SHIELD grinned. "Don't worry. Cupcake is in for some major talking-to when we get back to base. He might even be alive when Fury gets through with him."

Bruce felt an answering grin creep across his face. "You call him Cupcake?"

"Because he's spongy and full of frosting."

"I…see," Bruce said as the agent in question stumbled in the door. 

"They're everywhere, Barton," he gasped, flopping forward.

"You sure, Cupcake? You were really great at getting their attention down there, I have to say," Hawkeye said calmly. "10 out of 10 for that fuck-up."

"Man, don't be like that…"

Barton shook his head. "Just get out of here. No, wait - first tell me you're at least qualified enough to make a clean getaway."

Cupcake threw him a disgusted glance. "That was the first day of training, you know that, Barton."

"Good. 'Cause if I see _any_ sign that we were followed thanks to your incompetence--"

"All right, I'm going, I'm going!" The unfortunate agent disappeared out the door again.

Barton glanced over the barrier one more time. "Seems clear for now. You ready, doctor?"

"Packed up and ready to go." Bruce strapped the last case to his back.

"Fine," Barton said. "Let's blow this joint."

*  
 _twenty minutes previous_

"We're gonna have to lay low for at least a day. Sorry about the accommodations, doctor." Barton tossed his backpack down on one of the moth-eaten motel beds and started to put his bow away with considerably more care. 

Bemused, Bruce set the detection array down on the dresser - black and sleekly incongruous to the scarred wood - and asked, "Have you ever been on the Amazon River, agent?" 

"Yes."

"I've slept on worse."

Barton smiled. "Point taken, doctor."

"Hey, we're official roommates for at least the next twenty-four hours. Call me Bruce." Bruce held his hand out.

The smile got wider. "Clint." 

They shook hands.

*  
 _five minutes previous_

"Allow me." Bruce fished some gauze out of the emergency bag. "It's the least I can do."

"Your file says you've got a lot of experience with field medicine," Clint said as Bruce knelt next to him on the bed, cleaning and bandaging the bruises and scores up his torso.

"SHIELD's medical kits are a lot more…well-stocked than I'm used to." Bruce put his arms around Clint to get the tape all the way around, which brought his face rather close to Clint's ear. He just smelled like clean sweat, which was pleasant for a change. You learned to appreciate the nicer-smelling humans when you doctored. "There. That'll tide you over for a while. No swelling, so your ribs are okay. I'm frankly surprised…I'm not exactly a lightweight and we must've fallen at least ten feet." 

"You're lighter than you think." Clint's eyelids drooped while Bruce smoothed the gauze down. "They bring us up tough in SHIELD."

"Spinach every day at dinner, something like that?"

"Something like that." Clint turned his head. At this point Bruce realized his breathing had changed, soft and slow, mainly in response to Clint's. He still managed to be surprised by the kiss.

*  
 _now_

"You're only the second person who's ever apologized for trying to kill her."

"It's...probably way out of my security clearance and probably not healthy for me to know, but who was the first person?"

"Me."

"How…" Bruce cast his eyes up to the ceiling in the hopes that it knew what was going on. "How does any of that qualify as criteria for deciding to seduce _me,_ in a motel, after a firefight, during--" he caught his breath, Clint was doing distracting things to his neck, "--during a botched mission?"

"Well," Clint said. "You know what they say. Carpe diem and everything."

"Uh, the actual Latin…" Bruce started, but Clint's hand snaked under Bruce's shirt and closed around his bare hip, and Bruce twitched. "…translates to 'pluck the day' and not 'seize the day.'"

"Same thing." Clint slid his hand up, warm on Bruce's skin. Bruce conceded his point.

"You know Tony and Pepper already got their hands on me."

Clint's expression failed to change, except for his eyelids going half-mast and Bruce wondering if all of Hawkeye's targets felt like this. "Yeah. Did you talk this much when you were with Tony and Pepper?"

"I…think Tony had the talking angle covered for all of us. Um. So hypothesis number two is, this is," Bruce gestured vaguely, "some kind of test run, right? You're trying me out for Natasha. Reporting preliminary results, that kind of thing?"

"Not anymore." Clint kissed him slowly. 

It still didn't make sense, and he had more hypotheses, but something told Bruce he wasn't going to make Clint any less opaque while in the middle of getting visibly aroused under him. When Clint let him come up for air, he said simply, "Just don't stress your ribs."

"It's not my ribs I'm stressed about." Belying his words, Clint's deft hands had Bruce's shirt open in a few seconds.

He shivered. "Let me worry about that, okay?"

*  
 _the next day_

"How'd it go, champ?" Natasha asked. She had a smile to go with the soot and bruises on her face, and an alluring lean against the door to go with her ripped flight suit and muddy boots. Wherever SHIELD had sent her, it had been very profitable.

"Mission accomplished, boss," Clint said and shared her smile - he was sappy enough to think she glowed, even covered in dirt, even in the dimness of the Helicarrier cabin. Anyway, his own gear wasn't in much better shape than hers.

"Don't call me that." 

"Whatever you say, boss. The three of us have a breakfast date tomorrow, by the way. Bruce promised not to bring any death threats with him."

She finally came into the room with a saunter that made his mouth go dry. Yeah, tomorrow's date was definitely going to be-- profitable.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah." Clint busied himself taking his boots off and chucking them against the narrow bunk beds. "I'm thinking we take him out for breakfast, then we try out the suite Tony assigned to us in that tower of his."

"I've always appreciated your taste in gifts, Clint."

"You know you never have to thank me, Tasha."

"I know."

*  
 _fin._


End file.
